


In a Name

by tocourtdisaster



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Gen, Genderswap, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:10:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tocourtdisaster/pseuds/tocourtdisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duchess and Dwight have a conversation about names.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Name

**Author's Note:**

> This is just me trying my hand out at genderswapping Haven.

There's an explosion (and isn't there always an explosion nowadays?) and Duchess, who isn't as far away from the explosion as she probably should be (she's going to have to talk to Sasquatch about setting his timers for longer than ten seconds; not everyone can run a mile in three steps), is thrown to the ground.

"Dammit," she mutters as she pushes herself up on her elbows and looks down. Landed in mud. Again. "I am so not going to be the one to pay for my cleaning bill this month."

"Here." There's a rather large hand in front of her face, a hand which is probably there to help Duchess to her feet, which is normally something Duchess would scoff at but this is the third time this month she's been blown up so she has zero qualms (well, maybe not zero, but very few qualms) with being helped up.

"Thanks," she tells Dwight as she grasps his hand. His other hand has her around the opposite arm and in almost less time than it takes her to blink, Duchess is on her feet. A handful of mud slides down the side of her leg and into her sock which had, somehow, managed to stay dry up until now.

"Are you okay?" He's hunched over a bit, probably trying not to loom which is pretty much his default setting, and looking her right in the eye, ready to call her out if she tries to lie to him. He also still has a hold of her elbow, steadying her like he's worried she's going to fall over again if he lets go. 

(And, okay, so maybe that happened the last time they were blown up, but Duchess has slept in the past twenty-four hours unlike last time, so it's totally unwarranted now.)

"Just dandy," she says, squinting up at him. He really is ridiculously tall and the sun is shining just over his shoulder and right into her eyes and Duchess takes half a step forward until she's completely in his shadow. "Better now that I'm not being blinded."

Dwight chuckles (what kind of person actually chuckles?) and straightens up and Duchess doesn't even bother craning her neck to look at him, just gets reacquainted with his pectorals. "If you wanted a sunshade, all you had to do was ask, Princess."

"That is not my name and you know it, Thor," she says, poking a finger into his stomach. Yes, he's just as muscular as she'd imagined. (Not that she's given it a whole lot of thought, but even a lesbian can appreciate a fine male specimen once in a while.)

"And my name isn't Thor," Dwight says. His hand finally falls away from her elbow. "So I guess we're at something of an impasse."

"Guess so," Duchess says. "So how do you want to go about settling it? I'm a big fan of pistols at dawn, though I could probably be persuaded to arm wrestle you for it."

"Or you could just call me Dwight," the big man says, hunching over once again to look her in the eye. "And I could call you Duchess."

"Call me Crocker," she tells him. "I only allow people I don't like to call me Duchess."

"Nathan is the only person I've ever heard call you that."

"My point stands."

"No it doesn't, but I won't fight you about it." The bastard has the nerve to sound magnanimous about it, but Duchess doesn't let that get under her skin. Much.

"Thank you." Duchess can be magnanimous too, when the mood (very occasionally) strikes. "Now, how about we figure out what the hell is going on with our trouble of the week, okay?"

"Sure thing, Princess."

"Hey!"


End file.
